


In Another Life

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-15
Updated: 2011-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-16 23:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another life, Kurt Hummel is a scared and bullied freshman, but a kind-hearted football player rescues him</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Another Life

_Then_

Kurt Hummel started high school his freshman year feeling cautiously optimistic that his classmates would have evolved over the summer and that high school would be entirely different from middle school. He talked his father into a trip to the mall for new school clothes and while he was there, Kurt carefully observed what the other boys were wearing and bought exactly the same things. He resisted the urge to add an interesting belt or fanciful scarf to his ensemble. He practiced in the mirror until his hands didn’t flutter anymore when he talked.

The whole plan to fit in and not attract any attention went really well for the first few weeks.

His classes were interesting and he made a few friends, although they were mostly girls. Kurt started singing happily in the shower again, and his father seemed to relax. Kurt hadn’t felt so secure about his life since some time in elementary school.

His newfound security disappeared though, when the sophomores and juniors finally looked around from their absorption with their own lives to examine the freshman class. Somehow, the jocks and other popular kids could see through Kurt’s disguise and knew exactly what he was.

Kurt discovered that while middle school torment took the form of words and exceedingly juvenile pranks, the high school boys took a more direct route and weren’t afraid to use their fists on him. Kurt had lots of experience at tuning out hurtful words, but the physical pain that now accompanied the taunts made the words hard to dismiss.

After trying numerous routes to escape his tormentors, Kurt finally discovered that the best way to conceal himself from them was paradoxically to venture further into their territory. The bleachers that ringed the practice field were constructed so that the lower levels of seating were made of aluminum sheets riveted together. The upper tiers where open, but those lower levels were all one piece where the bleachers were anchored to the ground.

As soon as the last bell rang, Kurt would hurry to the bleachers, backing himself under there until the felt as safe as a fox in a hidden den. He would repair any damage that he’d sustained and wait them out until it was almost time for Burt to come home. Kurt would hurry home and present his father with a mask of cheerful normality.

On this particular day, someone had shoulder-checked him as Kurt was standing at his locker trying to decide what he needed to put in his homework binder. Kurt’s mouth smashed into the metal edge of the locker frame and the taste of blood immediately welled into his mouth as his lip split open. The jock didn’t even stop to see how much damage he’d done. Kurt gave a distressed cry and hurriedly stuffed his binder in his messenger bag, hoping that he’d gotten everything. He hurried to his sanctuary under the bleachers, waiting for the trembling to calm down a little before he could try to repair the damage.

Once his back was against the metal, and no one could come along and push him into anything, Kurt’s breathing gradually slowed down. He held his hands up, but they were still shaking, so he clenched them between his thighs, desperately willing his body back under control.

The only sounds he could hear other than the rasp of his breathing were faint whistles from the coach on the field, and the low grumbling of the players talking and shouting as they practiced. The noise was familiar though, and Kurt didn’t mind it. Sometimes the sound was almost soothing.

Unfortunately, his retreat was invaded by one of the very jocks from whom he’d fled.

One of the football players crawled under the bleachers. Kurt didn’t recognize him from any of the torment sessions he’d endured. But the boy was smiling and that made Kurt nervous.

“Hey, are you okay?” the boy asked.

Kurt didn’t answer, but curled up tightly, hoping that if he presented less flesh to wound then he wouldn’t be hurt as badly.

“I’ve seen you come in here every day,” the boy said.

He crouched down and moved closer to Kurt, who couldn’t help but flinching. The boy froze.

“You’re afraid of me,” he said, shock in his voice. “Why? You don’t even know me.”

Kurt looked up, temper flaring and the pain in his face making him reckless. “Go away.”

The boy gasped. “Holy shit, you’re hurt!”

“You’re a genius,” Kurt retorted, beyond caring what happened anymore.

The boy sat back on his haunches, watching Kurt for a moment. Then he reached up under his jersey, fumbling with something. He pulled the jersey off, revealing his football pads underneath. He pulled at some straps and then dropped them to the ground also. Kurt stared at him, open-mouthed, and wondering how much more he planned to take off. And also . . . what the hell?

Now wearing the grey t-shirt that had been under the jersey and his padded football pants, the boy arranged himself cross-legged on the ground in front of Kurt.

“See? Not scary,” he said.

“You’re still a jock,” Kurt muttered.

“You could give me a chance,” the boy said.

“Why?”

Ignoring the question, the annoying jock said, “My name is Dave Karofsky, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask,” Kurt said.

“I noticed.” The boy grinned at him, revealing white teeth and making his face crinkle up pleasantly. “Now you tell me yours.”

“No.”

The boy shifted around, moving closer to Kurt, who tried to back away but his refuge had suddenly become a prison. He wondered if he was fast and agile enough to crawl out and around the jock before he was caught.

“Don’t you have someplace you should be?” Kurt hissed in annoyance.

The other boy shrugged. “Probably. I’ll get suicides or bear crawls or something from Bieste for dodging clean up.”

“Then go,” Kurt demanded, motioning imperiously towards the back of the bleachers.

“What happened to you?” the boy pressed.

Kurt’s temper snapped. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t know! One of your jock friends did the usual number on me.”

The laughter fell off Dave’s face. “Not my friends.”

Rolling his eyes, Kurt mumbled, “Whatever.”

Deciding to ignore his unwelcome guest, Kurt opened his messenger bag and pulled out his first aid kit and make up bag. Dave watched him solemnly. Opening his water bottle, Kurt poured a little on his handkerchief, preparing to clean the blood off his face. His hands trembled and some of the water dribbled on the ground.

“Let me,” Dave said. “Please?”

He held his hand out for the cloth and Kurt stared at him. He realized that the boy hadn’t done anything to him to threaten him, even when Kurt had bitched at him. He looked sincere, but Kurt was so afraid to trust anyone at that point.

“I won’t hurt you,” Dave said, gently taking the cloth.

Kurt didn’t resist as the boy moved the handkerchief carefully over his cut, loosening the dried blood that had already started to scab. He wiped Kurt’s chin slowly, stopping to rewet the cloth several times. Kurt watched the intense concentration on Dave’s face as he cleaned Kurt’s wounds. No one had ever tried to help Kurt after the bullying and he swallowed several times against the tears that threatened.

Dave finished and sat back, twisting the stained white square around his fingers.

“I’m gay,” he said finally.

“What?” Kurt squeaked, trying to back up again.

Dave shrugged. “I’ve been through some shit too.”

“I’m not . . . I mean, I’m just . . . .”

The boy didn’t argue with him, but watched him steadily as Kurt floundered and panic surged in his chest.

“How does everybody know?” he pleaded finally, the tears finally spilling over.

Dave shrugged. “No clue.”

He made no move to comfort Kurt, but instead said, “I told my mom when I was in eighth grade.”

Kurt wiped his face. “You did? What did she do? Weren’t you scared?”

Dave smiled. “She’s a psychologist, a grief counselor, so I figured that even if she was mad at me, she would still understand.”

“What happened?”

“Not much. She cried a little. I cried too. Then we told my dad. He wasn’t very surprised.”

Kurt thought about that and tried to imagine telling his dad the truth that he’d only just begun to admit to himself. The idea was more frightening than facing the entire football team. Looking at the other boy, he realized he’d completely lost his fear of the jock . . . maybe even before Dave admitted his orientation. Kurt thought he had probably stopped being nervous when the boy had tended his hurts so gently.

“You’re a jock,” Kurt said, trying to understand the whole thing.

“Yeah,” Dave smiled. “Captain of the JV football team.”

“The quarterback?” Kurt asked struggling to think of anything he knew about football.

Dave shook his head. “No, I’m the fullback. Usually I just get in the way when other people move with the ball.”

“Oh.” Kurt couldn’t pretend to be the least bit interested in football, but he supposed being the captain meant something to Dave. He offered the other boy a little smile, which Dave returned with interest, his eyes lighting with happiness.

Kurt said, “My name’s Kurt Hummel.”

“You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, Kurt,” Dave breathed. “Especially when you smile.”

Kurt didn’t know what to do with that, never having been given a compliment by someone like Dave – another boy. He ducked his head, embarrassed by the red flush that he could feel spreading across his face. After he recovered his composure, he looked at Dave carefully.

The boy had a broad, full face but he had a pretty smile and amazing eyes. His shoulders were wide and strong. His arms looked powerful, and Kurt presumed that the rest of him was probably just as appealing. Kurt decided that he was quite handsome.

“Thank you,” Kurt said finally. “I think you’re very . . . cute.”

Dave grinned. “Can I kiss you?”

Startled, Kurt stared at him. He never expected to be kissed. Not ever. “Yes,” he said faintly, feeling his heartbeat accelerate. He had no idea how to kiss someone.

Dave leaned over, just brushing their lips together quickly and lightly. He left tingles behind and Kurt put a finger on his mouth to see if he felt different, now that he had been kissed – his first.

“Come on,” Dave said, holding his hand out.

Kurt took his hand and let Dave lead him out from under the bleachers. Kurt straightened up cautiously as they emerged, wary of any moves from the rest of the football team.

Dave tugged him towards the field where most of the team was picking up orange cones.

“Karofsky,” one of players said as they approached. “You lazy shit. Where the fuck have you been?”

“Shut up, Puckerman,” Dave responded.

Kurt tensed, but Dave dropped his hand, instead wrapping a comforting arm around Kurt’s shoulders. A large black boy approached them.

“Dave, my man. Tell me you didn’t adopt another stray.” He shook his head mournfully.

Dave laughed. “I didn’t find him at the pound. This is Kurt.”

“He’s that fag freshman,” the one Dave had called Puckerman said. He had a very unfortunate Mohawk.

Kurt flinched, but Dave tucked him more tightly against his side.

“Watch your mouth, Puckerman,” a large woman said, as she approached them. She was wearing shorts and knee socks, and had a truly horrifying coif. Kurt couldn’t help staring.

“Yes, coach,” the mohawked boy mumbled.

“What have you got there?” She asked Dave.

“I found him. He’s scared, Coach Bieste,” Dave answered her.

Shaking her head, the coach said, “What am I going to do with you? You’re supposed to be an brute!”

“I don’t know, Coach.”

Kurt could feel Dave’s amusement and gathered that the very alarming woman was teasing him.

“As long as you keep that tender heart of yours off the field, Karofsky.”

She turned away to yell at some of the boys who were trying to move a large steel contraption with a series of pads attached to it.

“What’s going on, Dave?” one of the other football players asked.

Kurt vaguely remembered this one from middle school. He was really tall with dark hair and fair skin. Finn or something like that.

“Kurt here has been having a rough time. I say we look out for him . . . make sure no one else messes with him.”

“He’s gay,” someone pointed out.

Dave rolled his eyes. “It’s not catching, asshole. Okay, let me spell it out for you idiots . . . girls love gay guys. They’ll be all over him, but he’s got no use for them as girlfriends, so someone can pick up after him. If they know you’re protecting him, you’ll benefit from being his friend.”

The other boys looked at each other, turning over Dave’s explanation in their minds. Kurt wondered about the speech – whether Dave was out with the rest of the team. He certainly hadn’t pretended that he wanted any of those girls himself.

“Okay, he does have a point,” Puckerman said finally. He held out a hand to Kurt. “You’ve got yourself a secret service.”

Kurt shook his hand carefully, trying to be firm and masculine about it the way his dad had always told him.

“Awesome,” Dave said.

The rest of the JV team slapped Kurt’s palm while Dave looked on with a pleased grin.

“My mom should be here by now,” Dave said. “Let us give you a ride home?”

Kurt knew his dad wouldn’t be thrilled about him getting a ride with someone that Burt had never met, but he knew he was getting perilously close to the time when his dad would be home from the garage anyway. He didn’t want his father to freak out if he wasn’t there.

“Okay,” he said.

Dave detoured to the locker room to pick up his bag. Kurt followed quietly, looking around at the strange environment. He kept his eyes averted from the boys in case there was any question that he might be trying to sneak a peak at anyone.

Leading the way to a sensible sedan parked in the drive, Dave gave Kurt an encouraging smile.

“This is Kurt,” Dave said as they climbed into the car.

“Hello, Kurt,” Dave’s mom said.

“Please to meet you, Mrs. Karofsky,” Kurt said politely.

“Can we give him a ride home?” Dave asked.

“Sure,” she said, putting the car in gear.

Kurt sat quietly in the back during the drive, listening to Dave and his mom talk about totally random things. The noise was soothing, and he relaxed into the plush seat. Watching his faint reflection in the car window, he smiled to himself. Maybe high school wouldn’t be so bad after all.

They pulled up at his house and Dave’s mom waited in the car while Dave walked him up to the front door. Kurt felt a little weird about it, like a hot feeling in his chest. He wondered if Dave would try to kiss him again in front of his mother.

Kurt fumbled for his keys and then got his door unlocked. He turned around, towards Dave.

“Thank you. For everything,” Kurt said.

Dave smiled at him and reached for his hand. “I’ve got a question.”

“Oh,” Kurt said, smiling back at him.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Kurt stared in shock. He’d never even dreamed that he’d find a boyfriend while he was still in high school, and especially not someone so handsome . . . and kind too.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Good,” Dave answered.

He pulled a pen out of his pocket and drew something on Kurt’s hand. When Kurt turned his hand over, he saw a phone number.

“Call me and give me yours,” Dave said.

“I will,” Kurt said, curling his hand over the number.

“See you tomorrow, Kurt,” Dave said, leaning to kiss Kurt’s cheek, and then he turned and ambled down the walk back to his mother’s car.

Kurt walked into the kitchen with a dreamy smile on his face and started making dinner. He made his father’s favorite, steak and potatoes, of course, although he shuddered at both the calories and the cholesterol. But he had resolved to lay the truth out for his father, and he wanted Burt to be in a good mood, at least at the start of the dicussion.

“Evening, Kurt,” his dad said, walking in from the garage.

“Hi, dad,” Kurt replied brightly. “How was work?”

“Uh, good,” Burt said. “How was school?”

“Interesting, actually.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Let’s eat,” Kurt said, sitting down and opening his napkin. He smoothed the fabric over his knee, suddenly feeling nervous. Dave had given him courage to do something he should have done a long time ago, but it still wasn’t easy. “We can talk after.”

“This is good, son,” Burt said around a mouthful of cream-laden mashed potatoes.

“Thank you.”

They ate quietly and Kurt finally pushed his plate back, and dabbed at his mouth. Only then did he remember the cut that Dave had tended as it stung slightly. The memory made him warm and steeled his determination to come out to his father.

“I have some things that I need to say,” Kurt announced.

“Okay, shoot.”

“First of all . . . I’ve been hiding a few things about school.”

“Like what?” Burt asked, his brow creasing in concern.

“I’ve been bullied. Repeatedly. Every day, actually. Including today. But it’s okay now.”

“Okay!” his father demanded. “How can it possibly be okay?”

“Well . . . the JV football team has agreed to protect me.”

“The . . . what? Why would they do that? I mean, it doesn’t seem likely, son. Are you sure it’s not a prank?”

“That’s the other part of it,” Kurt answered, twisting his hands as his nerves made them slick with sweat.

“What is it?”

Kurt swallowed. “I’ve realized recently . . . well, actually, it’s more a case of accepting, I suppose . . . but I’ve come to understand . . . that I’m gay.”

He waited for an explosion or tears or something. Burt didn’t do anything, just rubbed his hand along the bristles beginning to show on his chin due to the late hour of the day.

“Did you hear me?” Kurt whispered.

“Yes,” Burt answered.

“Say something then.”

“I was kind of hoping we wouldn’t have to have this conversation.”

“You aren’t surprised,” Kurt said, feeling faintly shocked.

“Well, no,” Burt said with a wry grin. “I just didn’t think you’d ever tell me.”

“There’s more,” Kurt said.

“More?”

Kurt could see Burt tense, becoming wary.

“The football team . . . they agreed because . . . I’m dating the captain.”

“Dating?” Burt reared back in alarm.

“Yes. He’s a really nice guy. I like him a lot.”

Burt held up a hand. “Don’t. Just . . . don’t say anything else.”

“Please don’t say I can’t go out with him,” Kurt begged.

“I’m not . . . I just didn’t imagine I’d have to deal with this. You. Another boy. Not in Lima. I thought you’d be safely off to college before this happened and I wouldn’t have to think about it.”

Kurt couldn’t decide if his dad was being a protective father or slightly homophobic jerk. “Okay,” he said softly.

“Just . . . give me time, all right?”

“Okay.”

Burt stood up. “He’s good to you?”

“Yes,” Kurt answered, the warm feeling coming back at the memory of big, gentle hands touching him and surprisingly soft lips on his skin.

“Tell him that he’d better stay that way or else,” Burt said gruffly, giving Kurt an awkward pat on the shoulder.

The TV clicked on and Kurt knew his dad would lose himself in the shows on the Discovery Channel for a few hours. He pulled out his phone and carefully created a text message to the number he’d saved earlier.

 _It’s Kurt._

 _Hey!_

 _I told my dad about me._

The answer came back quickly, _You ok?_

 _Yes. See you tomorrow. :)_

 _Can’t wait. ;)_

After that day, with the large and kind-hearted boy at his side, and the rest of the JV football team at his back, Kurt found that high school became far beyond bearable – it became fun. He wore the clothes he’d always dreamed about; he joined the Glee club and fought wholeheartedly for solos; and while some people always whispered hateful words to him, Kurt never paid them a bit of attention.

When Dave left for college after Kurt’s junior year, Kurt missed him horribly, but the strength and love Dave had given Kurt over the past years carried him through, and Kurt sailed through his senior year with ease. When he left Lima to start his ‘real’ life, he looked back on his time in high school with a fond smile for those treasured memories.

 

 _Now_

Kurt looks the mirror in their large bathroom, his face partly in shadow because the only light comes from a lamp in the bedroom behind him. He stares at his face in the mirror, distracted from his nightly moisturizing routine by recollections of days long gone. He shakes himself out of his reverie and then leans forward to inspect his features in the glass, wary for any unacceptable signs of aging. He’s changed quite a bit from those long ago days when he’d been a callow schoolboy, but he tells himself that his skin will never betray his real age. His eyes twinkle as the memories crowd him again and he wonders how the years have passed so quickly. He’s about to cross over to the wrong side of forty, but he’s not worried about it. His life is full and more complete than he ever imagined when he was a teenager.

A face appears in the mirror over his shoulder . . . a broad countenance with gracefully sturdy bones. Maturity sharpened his looks, honing the flesh so it enhances the underlying structure instead of hiding it. Age has left just the slightest hint of softness along his jaw line, but his expressive eyebrows and the dark gold of his eyes draw attention away from any flaws.

Kurt knows that face well – knows every expression, every inch of it, every imperfection and every cherished mark of character.

A large hand cups his crotch and Kurt doesn’t try to hold back his instinctive hip thrust up into that warm palm.

“The kids are out like lights,” he says, nipping at Kurt’s ear, even as his hand loosely circles Kurt’s cock through his sleep pants. “Why don’t you put this to some use. I’m feeling empty.”

“Oh, really?” Kurt smirks.

“Yeah. I need your hot man-muscle heating me up from the inside.”

Kurt tries to hold back his giggle, but it breaks through and he shrieks, “You’re so creepy!! Why did I ever marry you?”

Hands grip Kurt’s shoulders. “Cause I’m a hot piece of ass and you never got tired of drilling me into the mattress.”

Laughing again, softer this time, Kurt says, “That’s too true.”

With a smile, Kurt turns around and kisses the man that he snared when he was just fourteen years old – the only man he’s ever loved.


End file.
